the only thing worse
than bad memories
is no memories at all..
[dismemberment plan]
1.22.2007
The Good, the Bad, and the Other Stuff.
A lot more shit has happened here and there, but this is all I would like to post at the moment. It isn't much.
The Good: My baby turtles Hans and Gerald were alive and kickin' it when I returned to New York after Christmas.
The Bad: Several weeks later, despite enjoying what appeared to be good health in the meantime, Hans was found at the bottom of the tank, upside-down, his tiny legs splayed out, his eyes closed. Despite efforts to revive him, including giving his shell gentle compressions, CPR-style, his eyes remained closed. He was wrapped in wax paper, placed in a green tea box, with a note that included his full name (Hans Wolfcastle), the date (January 14, 2007), and a small drawing of a smiling turtle. Though I wanted to give him a proper Viking burial (sending his box afloat on the river, and then light it on fire), I figured it would be rather suspicious to be setting things on fire and throwing them into the river at night in New York, and instead gave him as dignified an exit as possible down the garbage chute. Goodbye, little Hans. Gerald and I miss you.
. . .
The Good: My nose has recovered from the terrible turbinate reduction procedure pretty well. I can breathe through my nose now! It's incredible!
The Bad: Last night, while sitting with my foot bent under my butt, I caught a whiff of some rank-ass feet-smell. Wow!
The Other Stuff: I was so intrigued by my footy rankness that I ran over to my mom, who was huddled under a huge blanket watching Korean dramedy DVDs, stuck my stockinged foot under her face, and said, "MOM! MOM! SMELL THIS! OH MY GOD! DO YOU SMELL THAT?" And she screamed, "OH IT SO SMELL!!! IT SO SMELL BAD! I THINK I THROW UP NOW, YOU DISGUSTING! I TOO OLD FOR THIS!!! I CANNOT DO THIS ANYMORE!" and then made loud gagging noises and pretended to throw up.
. . .
The Bad: A few weeks ago, I had a terrible allergic reaction and broke out into angry, red hives all over my body. My top lip swelled up overnight, to the size of Amanda Lepore's. I also had a fever for several days, and my body ached all over so much that it was hard to move my arms.
The Good: I was lucky enough to have someone hold ice packs on my hives at night, listen to me whine until the drugs lulled me to sweet, merciful sleep...
The Other Stuff: I went to a doctor, a soft-spoken man in a pair of delicate glasses, who tsk-tsked at my itchy, sore, defeated state. He spoke gently into a microphone which transcribed his diagnosis onto his computer. "Does that mean you're a slow typer?" I asked. He laughed. "Yes." He continued speaking into the microphone: "Patient has wheals that are raised and red, some in a figure-8 pattern (period). Recognized limited typing skills (period)...."
He prescribed 30 days of Zyrtec, an antihistamine, and 5 months-worth of refills. After 3 days of taking Prednisone, and more than 7 days of taking 2 Benadryl tablets every 4 hours, 1 Zyrtec daily, and 1 Ranitidine whenever I remembered to take it, the hives have finally gone away. I take a couple of Benadryl now and then to keep some phantom (possibly psychosomatic) itching at bay, but I've stopped taking the Zyrtec.
According to this website, Zyrtec can cause side effects such as "nervousness, abnormal thinking, amnesia, and anxiety." It also includes "euphoria" and "terrifying dreams."
I do have a few dreams lately that have been sticking in my mind, making my stomach feel really strange. And they are indeed the most terrifying dreams I've had in a long, long time. They are so very frightening, but beautiful, too. So beautiful that they scare the absolute fucking shit out of me.
[Peek-a-Foo]